Heather's POV

"Heather, what the fuck did you do to my room?"

I tried to hide a grin from appearing onto my face as I shoved my toast slathered with Nutella into my mouth. "I didn't do anything, dork."

He walked into the living room where I was watching Chicken Run and sighed loudly. "Why."

"Why. That's a good question. Why do you hate me? Why did you let Rihanna manipulate you? Why did you decide to throw a titty attack and make Sammy feel like shit? Why do you just love Rihanna so much?"

He glared at me and shot back, "Here are some more whys. Why do you care? Why do you know any of this? And Sammy's fine, she's just a little upset at me. But that's all."

I scoffed and sat back on the couch. "Whatever."

He raised an eyebrow. "Whatever? That's all you have to say? You hate Sammy and that's all you say?"

"I'm just reveling in the fact that at the moment, she hates me less than she hates you."

"Shut up."

"It's true."

Casey scowled, "You don't know anything."

"Yeah?" I challenged. "I know enough. More than you right now. You know what happened after you went on your special little movie date with that bitch?"

"Uhh, we went to the movies where Rihanna told me Sammy thinks it's pathetic that I still have a crush on her?"

I stood up, glaring at him and tackled him to the rug like when we were kids.

But this time I was pissed. "You would actually believe the shit that comes from her mouth?"

He pushed me off of him and demanded, "Why do you care? You don't even like Sammy!"

"You don't even care about her anymore, you jackass! She got rip-roaring drunk and came here, saying that you hated her!"

He stared at me with a blank face before breaking out into an unsure grin.

"You're lying. It's Sammy, for fucks sake. Sammy doesn't drink. Besides, she took off in a car after I dropped Rihanna home. She wouldn't speed off while she was buzzed."

"…she drove off? In a car? Why? What did you do!"

"I didn't do anything! She punched her own sister in the nose for nothing! Heather, you don't even like her and I don't have to explain anything to you."

I screamed, enraged, and tackled him again. "You idiot! She really was drunk! And she's out there driving?!"

Casey pushed me off and insisted, "She's not drunk! She can't be!"

I scrambled up from the rug to change the channel to the local news.

"…the drunk driver is thought to be in critical condition after her car slammed into a tree, rendering her unconscious. The girl is currently being taken to Santa Martina Hospital. There was no ID found on her, only a Scooby-Doo blanket. She's quickly losing blood and might end up going into a coma with multiple broken bones and-"

I was out the door by then, speeding to the hospital. I couldn't help hating Casey at the moment.

He did this.

He drove her to that point.

He broke her.

I shouldn't care though.

I don't know why I do.

Maybe I feel bad.

I mean, I tormented her.

And I'll admit, she usually got the best of me.

And I hated it.

I hated it so much.

"You!" I screeched at the lady at the desk with her headphones in. Her music was blaring at maximum volume.

"Don't. Drop that thun-thun-thun…ayyy don't drop that thun-thun-thun-"

I ripped her earbuds out and snarled, "Do your damn job and tell me where the drunk driver Jane Doe is that came in tonight!"

She grumbled, "You need to get laid."

"And you need to drop your goddamned thun-thun-thun. Where is she?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. "Stupid bitch is in the ICU. That means Intensive Care Unit if you're as stupid as her."

I gave her a sickly sweet smile and calmly walked around the desk so that I was right next to her. In about three seconds, I had pulled the safety pin out from the hem of my shorts and jammed it into her ass.

Long story short, she slapped me right in front of all her co-workers and her superiors.

Bam, fired on the spot.

I am that good.

After the receptionist walked out of the room dejectedly with her iPod blaring, I zoomed into the ICU and asked a more hospitable receptionist where I could find the unidentified drunk driver. She pointed to a room at the end of the hall and I slowly approached it with heavy feet.

I did not want to open that door.

I didn't want to see what Casey had done.

But I had to at some point.

The first thing I saw was someone covered in a full body cast.

"Fuck!" I yelled.

I raced over to her and just stared before feeling the tears prick at my eyelids. "Sammy?" I asked. "How are you-?"

I got cut off by the machine monitoring her heartbeat when it started beeping faster. About three nurses and two doctors threw the door open, rushing in with a cart and electric paddles and a whole bunch of shit.

"Move!" one of them shouted, before pushing me harshly against the wall, almost shoving me past the curtain to where someone else was probably laying back without a care in the world while Sammy was over here suffering.

"She's having a seizure!" a nurse stated before they all pushed Sammy onto a gurney, wheeling her out the door.

It had all happened so quickly.

I didn't even get to see her face. To apologize on Casey's behalf. Even though he was currently being a dick.

"Whoa," said the girl from behind the curtain. "Someone's actually having a shittier day than me. This is not supposed to cheer me up."

My eyes widened and I threw open the curtain to find Sammy laying on her bed with her arm in a sling and her right leg in a cast. She was downing a glass of Nesquick and she was watching Doctor Who on the mini television. There were a few cuts on her face, but otherwise she didn't look as bad as the news had portrayed her.

"Awhhh," she cooed. "You came to visit lil old me? I'm touched."

"…THE NEWS SAID YOU WERE PRACTICALLY DYING."

"The media is exploiting my stupid car accident cuz I'm white and pretty? Well, white anyway."

"I GOT A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK FOR THIS?"

"Did you panic! At the disco? Hahaha, I'm so fucking high. Dude, dude, dude, they gave me Valium! Isn't that like balling?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How much medication did they give you?"

"Ideekay, but dude, I'm on drugssss. I've been loopy for like two daysss, haha." Her playful demeanor vanished for a few seconds, replacing it was a look of complete longing. "Did Casey come too?"

I looked away before answering, "He didn't believe me when I said that you were drunk when you drove off."

She shrugged. "So I guess he's with Rihanna?"

I glared at the wall. "He's being an idiot. If he knew that you were in the hospital, he'd come rushing over and beg on his knees for your forgiveness."

"It doesn't matter," she said softly.

I snarled, "Yes, it does matter." I yanked my phone from my pocket and checked the battery. About twenty percent left. Just enough to make Casey feel like shit.

I started recording Sammy on video and said, "Tell Casey why you're here, Sammy."

She sighed and ran her only working hand through her hair. She looked tired.

As if the world was stomping all over her.

"I'm here because I was stupid and upset and got drunk. I went home, you accused me of punching my sister for nothing and you believed her over me. I overreacted so go have fun with Rihanna, I don't care."

I ended the video and quickly sent it to Casey.

And now we wait.

A/N: Guys. I'm lazy, I'm sorry. Let me start out by saying, this was supposed to be longer, with Casey coming in and shit and whatnot, but then…I got an idea for another story and I need to start it or I'll lose the idea and cry because I wanna have fun with it.

AND NOW I HAVE MAJOR CRAMPS AND I WANNA CRY WHY DO I HAVE CRAMPS CANT I JUST LIKE NOWW HAVE THEM? IM VERY EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW AND I NEED TO GO DO SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE THESE THINGS (…)

*sobs hysterically*

DID YOU GUYS LIKE HEATHER'S POV?

Probably not, but I tried guys, but CRAMPS UGHH